


Unexpected Outcomes to Expected Events

by Guardian_of_Hope



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Stiles, Fix-It, Friendship, Pack Feels, Time Travel, hale pack feels, pack bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-11-27 10:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_of_Hope/pseuds/Guardian_of_Hope
Summary: A sacrifice to the nemeton started the countdown to the end of Stiles's world.A sacrifice to the nemeton brought it back.Stiles has six months to figure out another way to survive the Darach, the Alpha Pack, and high school.  He also has to explain to his dad about werewolves, Scott about the future, and Derek about the heart of Beacon Hills.





	1. The Basement

Erica had a high pain tolerance.  She didn’t know if it was a genetic quirk or a result of a lifetime of illness, but it didn’t take her long to become more aware of the world around her than the pain.  Boyd was whimpering softly beside her, but Erica carefully tuned that out in favor of listening to the rest of the house.  It wasn’t easy, the pain kept her from shifting, but there was enough noise that she knew the place wasn’t empty.

Then, she heard something familiar and terrifying.

Stiles Stilinski was upstairs, and he’d just yelped in pain.

Erica closed her eyes as the door to the main floor open, preserving what little night vision she had, and couldn’t help but wince at the sound of Stiles falling down the stairs.  For a long moment, he was still, and then he got up muttering something Erica didn’t catch.  Moments later, there was some soft patting sounds and the lights came on.

Erica tried to speak, to tell him to run, to get out, but Stiles hissed at her softly while glancing up the stairs.

“There isn’t much time,” he murmured as he lunged for the voltage box.  “I know you guys are done with Derek, and we haven’t been friends, but I need help.  I need you to trust me.”

Erica couldn’t see what Stiles was doing with the box, but the electricity didn’t increase.

“Just don’t try to free yourself the moment you can.  Gerard’s coming, if he thinks you’re unrestrained he’ll kill you.  Wait until he’s done with me.  It won’t be pretty, but I can take it.  Once they’ve left, get out the window and go left.  End of the street has a gas station.  Go there, go inside, get yourself seen on camera, use the bathroom if they’ll let you, and wait.  I will come get you and explain everything.”

Stiles turned and moved closer to Erica, staring her in the eyes, “If you do this, I’ll help you get a pack far away from here.  The safest one I can.”

Erica started to nod, but jerked up, hearing footsteps at the door.

Stiles reached up and then jerked his hand back with a hiss, shaking it like he’d been hurt.

“It’s electrified,” Gerard Argent announced.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Stiles replied, turning around.  “So, what’s the game plan here, Argent?  Are you even an Argent anymore?”

“I am an Argent,” Gerard said.

“Really?”  Stiles asked as he moved away from Erica and Boyd, “because I thought the Argents were all about keeping the code, right?  We hunt those who hunt us.  Kidnapping the son of the county sheriff doesn’t seem like it suits your code.”  He glanced up for a moment, “Does Mister Argent know I’m down here?”

“This is between you and me, Stiles,” Gerard announced.

“Really,” Stiles said, and Erica wondered how many times he’d practiced saying that word with so many different inflections.  “You do realize that I’m going to get out of here, right?”

“What, do you think your _pack_ is going to come for you?”  Gerard said.

“No,” Stiles replied.  “Scott’s got an innocent to save, he’ll keep to _our_ code.  Derek, well, he’s got his own problems to deal with right now.  Besides, Scott knows he can trust my dad to handle this.  After all, I’m human, Gerard.  And a minor.  As soon as I get out of here, you’re finished, and the scandal of it will cost Mister Argent everything he’s worked for with Argent Arms.  It won’t matter what nutjob conspiracy you try to spend, because law enforcement is like a fraternity and when word gets out that the Beacon County Sheriff’s underage son was kidnapped and who said son accused?  Mister Argent will never get another sale in California at the least, much less a government contract.”

Gerard threw a punch and Stiles stumbled back.  “Enough,” Gerard snarled.

“You aren’t my father, I don’t have to listen to you,” Stiles retorted and tripped over something, crashing to the ground.

Gerard threw himself on top of Stiles and began to hit him.

Erica closed her eyes and wished she had no hearing at all.  The sound of flesh striking flesh was going to haunt her almost as long as the sound of arrows piercing a body.  Finally, Gerard stood up, panting from the exertion and headed up stairs. 

Stiles moaned softly, then sighed as the door shut.  “Thank you, I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said softly.  “Remember, go to the convenience store and I’ll come get you.  Even if you won’t help, don’t go into the preserve.  There’s another werewolf pack out there, but they’re here to destroy the Hale Pack.  Until you take a new Alpha, you’re still Hale Pack and they will kill you.  It probably won’t be quick.  I WILL help you leave the county, get somewhere safe, if that’s your ultimate decision.”

The door opened again, and Gerard came back with two other men who picked up Stiles and hauled him off.  Gerard stared at her and Boyd, “When I come back this will all be over,” He announced and turned out the lights.

Once the door was shut, Boyd shifted and Erica gasped he freed himself, then he turned and freed her hands before pulling the tape off his mouth. 

“Are you okay?”  He asked.

Erica nodded as she peeled the tape off her own mouth, “That was horrible.  We need to go.”

“Can we trust Stiles?”  Boyd asked.

Erica hesitated, then nodded, “We can.  He’ll help us.  Stiles is many things, but I have _never_ heard of him promising to help and then backing out.  It’s not always the way you’d expect it, but he does help.”

“Then let’s go,” Boyd replied.

They found a basement window that opened without needing any extra effort and slipped out quietly before jogging away from the house.  For a moment, Erica was tempted by the wooded area behind the house but followed Boyd across a neighbor’s yard and into the street, heading for the convenience store as Stiles had asked.

/./././.\\.\\.\\.\

Lydia hated not knowing.  She’d driven herself to learn more and more as a child to combat the unknown and now she was starting to learn that what she’d learned wasn’t even a tenth of what was possible and none of it talked about werewolves or giant lizards or bringing dead people back to life.

Suddenly her phone rang.  She glanced at it and blinked as the name ‘Stiles Stilinski’ flashed back at her.  When had she gotten that number?

Still, Lydia answered it, “Hello.”

“Lydia, thank God,” Stiles said, “Listen, I need your help.”

“Stiles,” Lydia said.

“I’m at the animal clinic,” Stiles cut in, “and it’s about Jackson.  He’s not dead.”

“But,” Lydia began.

“I will explain everything to you,” Stiles said, “answer any question you have, but please, help me help Jackson first.  We don’t have a lot of time.”

Lydia hesitated.  She’d been on the fringes of whatever it was Stiles and Allison had been dealing with, but she had the sudden feeling that her answer her would either take her out or shove her into the same deep end they were at. 

“You said you were at the animal clinic?”  The words were out before she had fully decided, and Lydia realized that there had been nothing to decide.  She was going help Stiles and Jackson.

“Yes,” Stiles said, “or I will be, soon.  I just, I just need to pick up a few people.”

“I’ll see you there,” Lydia said, she hung up an grabbed her keys.

/./././.\\.\\.\\.\

“Come on Stiles, where are you,” John muttered as he studied his son’s bedroom.  He’d been trying to find Stiles since the lacrosse game, with no luck.

His cell phone rang.

“He-hello? Stiles?  Is that you?”  John blurted out.

“Dad,” Stiles said, he sounded relieved, almost like he’d been crying.

“Stiles, where are you?”  John asked, “Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Stiles said, “I, I’m okay.  I mean, it wasn’t, I didn’t.”

“Stiles,” John said.

“Sorry,” Stiles said.  “I’m at the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.  I’m, well, I’m banged up, but nothing’s actually broken.  Listen, I need you here, but I need a favor first.”

“Stiles,” John began, even as he started for the door.

“Please Dad, it’s important, like, super important to me.  I need you here, but I also need you to pick up Melissa at the hospital.  She’ll be off shift by the time you get there.”

“You said you were banged up,” John said, going down the stairs.

“I took a few punches,” Stiles said, “busted lip, black eye, nasty bruise on my left cheekbone that has a cut in the center.  Think I’ll also get an eyebrow scar.  Oh, and my stomach’s a bit bruised but he didn’t get more than two hits there because I had better leverage to throw him off.  Deaton’s already been after me with an antiseptic and bandages.  I need Melissa because of Scott.  Are you coming?”

“Yes,” John said.

The relief in Stiles’s sigh was incredible, “Thanks Dad.”

“I have to drive right now,” he told Stiles, “I’ll meet you at the clinic.”

/./././.\\.\\.\\.\

Alan Deaton was a man of many talents.  Foresight wasn’t one of them, although he sometimes wished it was.  When Stiles Stilinski burst into his clinic trailing two beta werewolves and looking like he’d gone two rounds in a boxing match, Alan wondered if the words retired or closed would have any meaning.

“Doctor Alan Deaton,” Stiles said as they faced off over the barrier in the lobby, “I have a message for you.”

“All right,” Alan said, glancing from Stiles to his companions.

“You kept your special magazines in a hidden compartment in your nightstand when you were sixteen but replaced them with mountain ash and a runic knife named Kal-El when you were eighteen.”  Stiles said.

“How did you know that?”  Alan asked, reaching down, for the barrier, for the power in the wood.

“I’m a time traveler,” Stiles replied quietly.  “I just got back and I’m in a hurry.  I need your help.”

“What do you need?”  Alan asked, opening the barricade.

“Mountain ash, regular and charged, and sanctuary for my dad and Scott’s mom, as well as Boyd and Erica if they chose to stay.  The Alpha Pack is in the woods right now.”  Stiles paused, glancing over his shoulder, “And for Lydia Martin, if she won’t help.”

“I do not have charged mountain ash right now,” Alan said, regretfully.  He’d used the last of it dealing with an unpleasant surprise after the fire.

“Well, I can help make some,” Stiles said, he shrugged, “about the only thing a spark’s good for, right?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Alan replied as they headed into the back end.

Stiles snorted, “At twenty-five, I could do a few things, but at fifteen?  No, not enough power and I’m not sure that what we did was worth it in the end.”

“You did a power ritual?”  Alan asked as he unlocked the smaller cabinet of useful supplies.  There were options that weren’t dark, but Alan couldn’t picture sharing them.  Instead he pulled out two jars of mountain ash and locked the cabinet again.

“Not exactly,” Stiles replied, “We did a ritual sacrifice that had the side effect of waking up the nemeton.  There were good reasons for it, and it allowed us to save a lot of people, but I’ve always wondered if that wasn’t what kick started the end.”

Alan tried to imagine a situation where he would allow that kind of ritual and couldn’t.  He looked at Stiles again, staring into the young man’s eyes for a long moment.  There were shadows in his eyes, deep ones, but the light that had been there, the _spark_ of magic that had prompted him to hand over the mountain ash the last time they’d seen each other, that was brighter than ever.

“How bad was it?”  Boyd asked.

Stiles bit his lip, “We lost everyone.”  He glanced over at them, “I’m sorry, but you two, within six months we’d lost you to the Alpha Pack.  I know you hate her, but Allison, well, after she got all the therapy, she became an ally.  She figured out how to handle Oni, and they killed her for it.  Isaac and Derek, they died trying to save Deaton from the hunters.”  He straightened up, “Lydia’s here.”

“I didn’t hear,” Erica began.

“Not yet,” Stiles said, he glanced at Deaton with a smile. “Side effect of the sacrifice, plus the time travel ritual, I know where Lydia is.”  He looked sad and pensive for a moment, then stepped forward, “Now it gets interesting.”

“There’s two cars,” Boyd said.

Stiles smiled, “Hope that’s my dad and Melissa.”  He glanced at the two betas, “Would one of you mind shifting when I tell Dad about werewolves?  He won’t shoot you, promise.”

“Sure,” Erica said.

“Thanks Catwoman,” Stiles replied.

“Stiles!”

In minutes, Stiles’s defense posturing faded as he threw himself at his father.  Melissa McCall and a young red haired lady that Alan was sure would be Lydia Martin, entered the room around the hugging Stilinskis.

“Alan,” Melissa said, “how are you?”

“I’m good Melissa, how are you?”  Alan replied as he shook her hand.

“I’m confused,” Melissa said.

“Stiles, your face,” the Sheriff began.

“Nothing’s broken,” Stiles replied, “Just bruised, I promise.  Now, I have to tell you some things that you may not believe at first but I swear I am not lying.”  He returned to the table and leaned against it, “While I’m explaining this, however, I need a favor Melissa.”

“What do you need?”  Melissa asked, instantly suspicious.

“Three drops of blood,” Stiles replied, “Boyd, if you’d do the same.  I need them in here with the ash.”

Deaton pulled out two sterile blades and put them on the table.

“Okay,” Melissa said after a long moment, reaching for one scalpel.

“Son,” the Sheriff began.

“I’m sorry, this, it needs to be done now.  But for a starting point, werewolves are real.”

Alan winced as he nicked his forearm and let the blood drop into the bottle after Melissa.  She glanced up at him as he passed over a bandage.

 “Werewolves.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, sighing, “Meet Erica, she’s a werewolf.”

Alan glanced up as the Sheriff looked over at Erica, who had shifted, and jumped back.  One hand dropped down to his gun, but then the Sheriff stilled, looking between Stiles and Erica.  Then back again.

“Werewolves.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, “that’s where it starts.  I’m sorry, but this is magic and monsters and nothing you were ever trained for, but I’m going to need your help.”

“How?”  The Sheriff asked.

“Scott’s a werewolf,” Stiles said, “and Allison is from a family of supernatural hunters, it’s very Romeo and Juliet.  The thing is, Allison’s grandfather has threatened Melissa to get Scott to help him.  Gerard has cancer and he wants the Bite, to be made a werewolf, to cure it, and he thinks Scott is going to help.  Scott has his own plan, and I’m afraid that however things go down tonight, Gerard has a plan b that will end with Melissa being hurt.  There is also an evil werewolf pack in the preserve, and they want either Scott or, or the alpha of the local pack to join them and they’ll attack anyone they think will help with that.  That’s why we’re here. Doctor Deaton knows a lot about the supernatural, and he’s got protections on the clinic that would probably withstand the zombie apocalypse.”

“I don’t know about that,” Alan cut in, “but werewolves would find it difficult to get in here without my permission.”

“Right,” Stiles said.

“So what am I doing here?”  Lydia asked.

“Because Gerard didn’t make Jackson kill himself tonight.  He initiated a metamorphosis of the kanima to a more evolved form, with wings.  Derek’s bestiary even has an animation, I’ll show you later.”

“Bestiary?  You mean like beast-“  Melissa said, confused.

“NO!”  Stiles flailed, “oh my god, what the hell kind of movies are you showing Scott!  A bestiary is a _book_ full of supernatural creatures.”

Boyd snorted and even Lydia’s lips twitched.

“Now Lydia, the evolved form of a kanima isn’t as tied to the master at first, the metamorphosis weakens the bond, which gives _you_ an opening to usurp the bond as Jackson’s anchor.  You already know what you need to do to achieve that, it’ll be your natural response.  Once that’s done, Jackson will revert to his human form and that will allow Derek up to kickstart the change to take him from murder-lizard to werewolf.”

“Okay,” Lydia said.

“Erica, Boyd, I’d like you to come with Lydia and I to the warehouse.  I’m going to use regular mountain ash to restrain the other weres, but I need one of you to restrain Allison.  She’s not in her right mind right now, so we want to stop her before she crosses a line she shouldn’t.  Once everyone’s restrained, Lydia, you deal with Jackson while I talk down Chris.  Frankly at this moment, Chris Argent is going to be the only person in that warehouse who will do exactly the right thing.  He’s already figured Gerard’s full of shit and once he sees my face he’ll see just how far Gerard’s gone.”

“What does that mean?”  The Sheriff demanded.

“Gerard Argent had his goons grab me to send a message to Scott, a message that is completely wasted because Gerard doesn’t know _me._   The only way I’d let Scott know what Gerard did is if it was ammunition to make Scott mad.”  Stiles replied.

“Why then?”  Boyd asked.

“Demons run when a good man goes to war,” Stiles replied as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  He glanced at his dad, “The final part of this is that I’m a time traveler.  Things went bad, like ‘rocks fall, everyone dies’ bad.  I-I had to come back, to fix things or at least change them, and we need to leave.  Like now, because Scotty just texted me about Lydia, again, and last time we didn’t leave until I got seventeen of these and if I want to stop the whole forcing the bite shit, that has to be now or never.  I’m so glad to see you again Dad, and I promise, no one dies today.  Lydia, and whoever else is coming, we’re taking my jeep.”

“Stiles,” Stilinski said.

“I have to go,” Stiles said, “I’ll tell you more later, but lives are literally at stake.  Doc, thanks for the mountain ash.  Sorry to dump my dad on you.”

Then he was gone, mountain ash in hand and followed by the two betas and Lydia Martin.

Stilinski crossed his arms and stared at Alan, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Alan sighed, “Let’s go in my office, there’s coffee.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for failing to indicate this story had chapters. I was maybe a little drunk when I posted that chapter.
> 
> I am not going to tag for past timeline relationships specifically, although I do talk about some of them. (I still don't see Scott/Malia, in all honesty)
> 
>  
> 
> As a reminder, Stiles is 25 years old. He's picked up a few things along the way even if other things never changed.

Chris had never been more grateful to take after his mother’s side of the family than in the moment when Gerard revealed his plan for Derek Hale.  He scanned the warehouse, trying to think of something he could do, but with the kanima holding Allison, the risks were too great.

There was the scuff of feet on concrete and Chris turned to the open door, his breath catching.  Erica and Boyd, wolfed out but unharmed, raced into the warehouse followed closely by Stiles Stilinski.  The betas glanced at Stiles, who nodded, then raced for Allison and the kanima before anyone else could react.  Stiles skidded to a stop as he poured something into his hand and then he threw his hand out, face a blank mask.

Mountain ash, Chris realized as it settled into circles around Derek and then Scott and Isaac.

The betas had hit the kanima hard, causing it to release Allison.  Erica scooped her up, holding her so that she couldn’t reach back with her knives while Boyd slung the kanima back.  Another circle of ash dropped around the kanima as soon as Boyd was clear.

“Mister Argent,” Stiles said, “fancy meeting you here.”

“I could say the same thing,” Chris replied.

Stiles nodded a little, “By the way, I really like your basement.  It’s so utilitarian.  I mean, the rest of the house is a show piece of interior design, but the basement says so much about you.”

“When were you in my basement?”  Chris asked, trying to come up with a reason.  He didn’t have mountain ash, those who had and used their spark tended to give hunters a wide berth on principle.  One of them had pointed out that not all hunters kept the code, and even those who did were sometimes paranoid enough to jump from supernatural creatures to magic users.

“Ask Gerard about that one,” Stiles said, “he’d probably tell it better than I could.”  The kid turned away, now facing Allison.  “Allison, you need to stop.”

“What?”  Allison said, clearly taken aback as she stopped fighting Erica’s grip.

“Stop,” Stiles said.  “Or you’re no better than Peter Hale.”

Allison tensed, “What?”

Stiles shook his head, “The thing is, all you’re thinking about is how you feel.  And I get that, when my mom died.”  He paused, “When she died, I was the only one there.  My dad had to work, there was a car crash and he’s a good guy.  He stayed with one of the drivers until help got there, but he was too late at the hospital.  I hated him for that.  I hated his job, I hated everything, because it felt like my dad went to work that night and he didn’t come back, and my mom didn’t either.  So I get it, I know how you are feeling, okay, but you’re lashing out at innocents.”

“Derek,” Allison said.

“Isaac,” Stiles replied, “Isaac never did anything to you, and you know that.  I’m betting Boyd and Erica didn’t do anything to you either, and they’re the ones who are suffering your grief.  But you know better, Allison, you _are_ better than that.  You are mad at everyone but the people who deserve it most, and you know that.”

Allison shook her head slightly.

Chris wondered how the kid with the twitches and the motor mouth had figured this out, he hadn’t seen Stiles in weeks, he’d seen more of Scott than Stiles.

“When my dad finally managed to get his head around losing Mom, he sent me to a therapist,” Stiles said quietly, “and she helped me so much.  Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but Allison, you should consider the same.  Maybe consider what kind of person you want to be, what code you want to build your future around.”  He rubbed his arm for a moment, “Personally, I like ‘we protect those who cannot protect themselves.’”

“What kind of code is that?”  Gerard sneered.

“A dear friend of mine came up with it,” Stiles said, he sniffed a little, “she died for that code too.  It mean a lot to her.”

“Sounds like a hippy,” Gerard said.

Stiles grinned, but it was a smile that made Chris itch to lift his gun, but he was very aware of the fact that there was a beta not currently in a mountain ash ring, and he was watching Chris.  There was a demon in that smile.

“Whatever my friend may or may not have been, you, Gerard Argent, are in a hell of a lot of trouble.”  He tucked his hands behind his back and tilted his head to the side as he strolled over to Gerard.

“You think that putting a mountain ash ring around me is going to do anything?”  Gerard demanded.

Chris blinked, because there was a ring around Gerard.  He hadn’t noticed it before.

“Well, that depends,” Stiles said as he stopped by the circle holding Scott and Isaac.  “Have you taken your pills today?”

“Stiles?”  Scott said.

“You be quite,” Stiles said, “your part in this comes later Batman.”  He stepped towards Gerard, “You didn’t answer my question, Gerard.  Did you take your pills today?”

Gerard lunged forward, and a bright purple barrier stopped him.

“What?”  Chris breathed.

“You know, I used to tell Scott that I didn’t want to be Robin,” Stiles said, “not that there’s anything wrong with Robin, I just didn’t want to always be the kid chasing the big bad wolf.  It took me a while to figure it out, that I’m not Robin.  I used to figure I’d be Nightwing, but I’m not him either.”  He glanced at Gerard, “You don’t want to know who I am.  Instead, I’m going to tell you what you are.”

Gerard hit the barrier with his fist.

“You see, you forgot something when you went after Scott.”  Stiles said, “You forgot that Scott had allies, people he could go to and talk to who would help him.  Scott being Scott, he knew what I’d say.  I’d say to kill you, because the only reason Scott’s dad made it out of Beacon Hills alive is that my dad sent me to stay with my grandparents before I could home alone the bastard.  Scott’s mom, well, she’s a nurse, she has a thing about do no harm.  But there’s one other person Scott could turn to.  Someone who might not always get involved because of his moral code but would help if Scott asked.  They’re just enough of a pragmatist to do something unexpected but not directly deadly.”

“What did he do?”  Allison asked quietly, her voice tight.

“He switched Gerard’s pills with mountain ash.”  Stiles replied.  “Generally not harmful until it, say, comes in contact with the werewolf curse.  It won’t linger in the body like a poison, and it doesn’t cause any symptoms.”  He rocked back for a moment, that demon grin back on his face, “Unless someone with a spark got their hands on charged mountain ash.  Then, for so long as that ash is in your system, you are held to the laws of mountain ash.”  He settled back down, his face stilling, “Now, what are we going to do with you?”

“Let him live,” Chris heard himself say.

Stiles glanced at him, “Oh?”

“Let him live.  If the cancer’s bad enough that a wolf can detect it, then he’s not going to live long.  There’s a hospital, they can keep him contained.  They even do outpatient therapy,” Chris said.  He hadn’t been back to France since his great aunt’s death, but maybe a change of scenery would help.

For a long moment, Stiles was blank faced, his eyes haunted, then he blinked and grinned and was a teenage kid again, “Mister Argent, in exchange for a copy of your family bestiary and the right to ask questions at a later date specific to dealing with the supernatural, you have a deal.”

Chris held out his hand and Stiles took it in a firm grip.

“Now, before you take off, there is something that needs to be done,” Stiles said, turning away, “Okay Lydia, it’s time.”

Moments later, Lydia Martin ran into the warehouse, took one look around and headed straight for the kanima, something clenched in her hand.

“Jackson,” she half screamed as she skidded to a stop out side the mountain ash.  She held up her clenched hand, and there was something that glinted silver and metallic between her fingers.  “Jackson, I’m here and I love you.”

The kanima blinked and then the scales began to fade leaving behind the boy.

“Derek, ready?”  Stiles said quietly.

“Ready,” Derek said after a moment.

“Good,” Stiles replied.

Then Derek was free, dashing across the warehouse to sink his claws into Jackson’s back.  The boy screamed, a sound that carried both human and animal sounds within it, then he collapsed and Derek let him fall.

Stiles took a deep breath and released it as Jackson stood up again.

“What,” Chris breathed.

“When a kanima’s master is also his anchor, it allows the alpha who turned him to complete the process,” Stiles said quietly.

“But Gerard,” Scott said.

“The transformation to the kanima’s secondary form weakens the bond to a master who can’t anchor the kanima,” Stiles said.  “There are other ways to do it, but this is the least lethal option.”

“How do you know this?”  Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged, “I’ve been reading up on it.  Not on the internet, in books.”  He glanced at Chris and nodded at Gerard, holding out a set of handcuffs, “You might want these.”

/./././.\\.\\.\\.\

Isaac pressed his hand to his side.  The wound was already healed, but the pain lingered.  Scott was standing between him and the Argents, but Isaac had a clear view of the look on Derek’s face when Mister Argent took the handcuffs.

“You’re letting him,” Derek began.

Stiles turned, his hand thrown out in a move that looked far more coordinated than his usual flailing.  The mountain ash around the kanima reformed, catching Derek.

“Chronimy tych którzy nie mogą obronić się sami,” Stiles said quietly, “jesteśmy drapieżnikami, nie musimy być zabójcami.  I have a code, and by my code killing in cold blood doesn’t happen.”

“What does it mean?”  Isaac asked as Mister Argent cuffed Gerard.

“We protect those who cannot protect themselves.  We’re predators, we don’t have to be killers.”  Stiles said.  He gestured and the mountain ash around Gerard split, allowing Mister Argent to take him away, with Allison climbing in the front seat of the SUV.  Stiles watched them leave, then turned to look at Derek, then Scott and Isaac.  For a moment, he was still, his face impassive, then he shoved his hands outward, sending the ash sliding away before he threw himself at Scott, wrapping his arms around Scott and making him stumble back.

“Stiles?”  Scott said.

Isaac straightened up, edging towards Derek in attempt to act like he didn’t smell the salt of tears as Stiles held onto his best friend.

“Stiles,” Scott said finally and hugged him back just as tightly until Stiles relaxed.

A hand on Isaac’s shoulder made him jump, he turned to find Erica there.  She gave him a little smile, looking almost afraid.

“What just happened?”  Derek said suddenly.

Stiles turned, but didn’t let go of Scott, “So, I’m a time traveler.”

“Do what?”  Scott said.

“Dude, I know.  I can hardly believe it, we weren’t even sure it would work, but we didn’t have a choice.  Things have to change.”  Stiles said.  He leaned into Scott with a one armed hug, then looked at Derek, “It’s bad, Derek.  So, so bad, like ‘rocks fall, everyone dies’ bad.  You know that Alpha Pack that’s in the preserve?  It includes Ennis, and I know how you feel about him.  I know why.  I’m only going to say three words, because this isn’t a story for me to tell.  Paige and the root cellar.”

“Did I tell you?”  Derek growled.

“No, Peter did,” Stiles replied.  “I know he’s an unreliable narrator, but someone else confirmed a part of it later on.  I came back from ten years in the future, and when I said everyone dies, I meant it.  Everyone in the warehouse was dead.  Erica and Boyd were killed by the Alpha Pack.  Jackson got caught by hunters, trying to lead them off from some kids.  Derek, you and Isaac bought us time to get a book from Deaton on the ritual we used.  Deaton blew up the clinic to keep the rest of the books we kept there from the hunters.  Scott, well, Monroe claimed the kill, but nobody really knows the whole story.  We just saw the pictures.”  He stopped for a moment.  “Peter bought us the time we needed to finish the ritual, and Lydia.”  Another pause, “Lydia and, and two allies we haven’t met yet, they sacrificed themselves to get me back.”

“What?”  Jackson said.

“Lydia, I’m sorry I can’t,” Stiles hesitated, “You come from to lines of psychics.  Your mom’s family has some minor clairvoyance.  I think your great aunt did tarot and tea leaves, but the talent is real.  Your dad’s family, well, the Martin bloodline is why you survived the bite unchanged.  You’re a banshee.  It starts with being drawn to violent death, and with the bite it’s predominantly supernaturally caused deaths, but it grows and expands.  In conjunction with one of the other allies, you could open the door between worlds, to allow me to step out of time to come back and Kira, the other ally, she used her power to provide protection.”

“How long?”  Scott asked.

“Uh, about the time I walked through the doorway into Argent’s basement this evening,” Stiles replied.  “We knew we’d get at least ten years, that’s the ritual’s minimum time, but how far past that, well, that was up in the air.  I think the biggest debate was if I went back far enough, would I stay home in January.”

“You mean when I got bitten?”  Scott asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, he smiled hesitantly, “I know you’re struggling now, but in the next few months you get your feet under you and…”

“And,” Derek said.

Stiles glanced around, looking at each of them in turn.  “Scott has the potential to become a True Alpha.  Events related to the Alpha Pack led to it happened, even as you gave up your Spark to heal Cora.”

“Cora, my sister Cora?”  Derek said.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, “she’s alive.  I don’t know where she is now, but some time between now and the next full moon, she’ll be captured by the Alpha Pack, part of their plan to force you to murder your betas and join them.  The last Hale is exactly the kind of prize Deucalion is hunting for, and with Scott, well, they aren’t going to run.”

“An Alpha Pack,” Scott said.

“That’s only the beginning,” Stiles said with a sigh, “but if you actually listen to me this time maybe we can get out of it with fewer traumas.”

“Hey Stiles,” Isaac said before he could stop himself.

“Yeah?”  Stiles said.

“Just now, with Gerard,” he hesitated, the look on Stiles’s face when he’d spoken to the old man had been chilling.

“Oh that,” Stiles said, “well, after participating in a ritual sacrifice to save our parents from an evil druid, I got possessed by a fox demon for a few months and got to ride along as he tried to kill everyone I ever cared about and made me think I had the same thing my mom did.  We got him out of me, but you hang around in your head while a psychopathic fox demon terrorizes and murders people, you learn how to be creepy as fuck when you need to be.  Took me a while to get the hang of it, but it’s paid off in a lot of surprising ways.”  He glanced at his hands for a moment and said, “And that reminds me.  If any of you are having trouble telling dreams from reality, count your fingers.  You always have extra fingers in dreams.”

“I’m so confused,” Isaac muttered.

“I don’t believe it,” Jackson scoffed.

“Well, I didn’t believe you were bisexual either until I walked in on you and Ethan,” Stiles replied.  “I mean, who has sex with their boyfriend in the guest room of their ex-girlfriend’s house.  Given that Ethan was Danny’s ex, it was like the trifecta of bad decisions, and that’s not even counting the monkey lamp.”

“Stiles,” Scott said.

“Dude, the lamp was so hideous, Ethan chucked it out a window and blamed it on the neighbor’s cat when Jackson noticed it was missing.  Like, there was literally an Instagram story dedicated to ‘ding dong the lamp is dead’.”

Isaac glanced at Derek, who was either constipated or experiencing his first headache.

“But we don’t have time to unpack Jackson’s shitty interior design choices.  I left Melissa and Deaton explaining werewolves to my dad to keep them protected from Gerard trying to activate some sort of Xanatos gambit revenge and if I’m not back soon, I’m going to be grounded until I’m thirty if I’m lucky.”

“You think fifteen years is lucky?”  Derek said.

“First of all, I drive and have a license, in California, how can you possibly think I’m fifteen.  Second of all I’m twenty-five and five years is lucky.  Considering how Junior year and the Mexico fiasco ended up, five years is definitely lucky.”

“Mexico?”  Lydia said.

“Uh, the Calaveras, badass hunters who totally did not fall off the deep end senior year and totally saved all of our collective asses, anyways, we thought they had Derek because we found bullet casings with their mark in the loft so we went looking and ended up find him under a pile of wolfsbane, in a temple, under a church, in a city destroyed by an earthquake in Mexico.  There was a whole thing, but Dad was more concerned about the possibilities of time travel than punishing me then, but then the bitch who took Derek took Scott and Kira, just when I FINALLY managed to get dumbass here to watch Star Wars by the way, and we went after them and my dad started by handcuffing me to his desk while taking Ma- uh, my girlfriend out for pizza and up until the week he died he was still pulling shit.”  Stiles stopped for a moment, looking pensive, then he gestured, “So I’ve got my jeep, but Lydia’s car is still at the clinic, so how do we want to do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, because it may be confusing. Gerard was taking mountain ash pills for a week. Unless the ashes are more like certain drugs, although I don't know that, there's no way his body would retain all of the ashes all week. In my head, it seemed more likely that it was like other meds, where the intensity of it changes depending on dosing schedule. "Charged" mountain ash (that is mixed with the blood of a magic user, a supernatural creature, and a normal human) is just mountain ash with something extra that resonates with the ash in Gerard's system (and in the pill container) Essentially, for a normal human, the ash wouldn't hurt, but when placed in contact with the "charged" mountain ash, it sort of causes them to 'resonate' like a supernatural.
> 
> (This thought was partly inspired by the chimeras and their non-reaction to mountain ash.)
> 
> The time travel will be discussed in more detail going forward, but draws on my limited understanding of the Wild Hunt, speculation of additional Banshee abilities, and a long standing respect for the concept of a 'final strike' (wherein you use everything, even your life force, in a single attack to kill off your attacker).


	3. Chapter 3

Derek wasn’t sure how they’d managed to get everyone into a car and moving, or how he’d ended up with Lydia and Jackson in his car, meaning he had to take them to the vet clinic, but suddenly they were in the clinic with Alan Deaton, Melissa McCall, and Sheriff Stilinski, who looked to be holding on to his sanity with tooth and nail when Stiles latched onto him for a hug.

“So,” Scott said as he let his mom hug him.

“Yeah,” Stiles said finally, looking tired.

“What happened with Gerard?”  Melissa asked.

“Chris is going to put him in a facility that will hold him until he dies of natural causes,” Stiles said, “as much as he’s done, and there is so much that we’re pretty sure can be laid at his feet, I couldn’t do it.  I can’t kill in cold blood.”

“You shouldn’t kill at all,” the sheriff said.

“Maybe not,” Stiles said, “but I’ve done it.  Self-defense, protecting others.  Most of the time, it’s Scott’s job to find us a better way, or Derek, or Peter, or Mister Argent handle it.”  He reached up to rub his shoulder, “Part of our code was that we were predators, but we didn’t have to be killers and I believe that.  The first time, it was an accident.  He was going to kill me because,”  Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, “because my dad was the sheriff.  His name is Donovan.  He got caught up in some supernatural science experiments that gave him powers similar to a wendigo.  I tried to escape, but the jeep wasn’t working and there was some scaffolding and I just wanted to slow him down.  There was some steel pipes on a platform, and I pulled the pin that supported the platform and they fell, and it was an accident.  It wasn’t easy, and it never got easier.”

The sheriff pulled Stiles into another hug.

When they stepped apart again, Derek cleared his throat, “Who told you that, about predators?”

“You did,” Stiles said.  “It was something Scott needed to hear, and it fit what was going on.”

“You said it was bad,” Scott said.

Stiles nodded, then yawned, “Sorry. This sort of thing isn’t easy.  I’m not saying we don’t need to go over all of this, but would it be at all possible for me to get a good night’s rest first.  I’m tired.”

“Tomorrow,” Derek began.

“Tomorrow I keep my promise to Boyd and Erica,” Stiles said, “if you still want it.”

“What promise?”  Derek asked.

“There’s an alpha just south of Beacon Hills,” Stiles said, “Satomi Ito.  She was a friend of your mother’s and a good woman.  If Boyd and Erica want to go, I’m going to get them an introduction with her.  If Satomi won’t take them, she’s got better contacts to find them a home pack than you do, or me.”

“I want to stay,” Erica said.  She didn’t look at Derek or at Stiles, her eyes were fixed on the ground.  “Please.”

Derek watched her for a moment and felt something in himself suddenly shift.  “You’re welcome to stay, Erica,” he said quietly.  He looked at Boyd, “And you as well, Boyd.”

For a moment, he thought he’d presumed too much, but then Boyd nodded once, “I’d like that.”

Derek turned to look at Isaac, who was hovering just behind Scott, a position that he took more often than not.  They looked at each other, and even as Isaac’s eyes flashed yellow, Derek knew that if Scott’s eyes did turn red, Isaac would leave.  Derek looked at Scott and realized that he didn’t mind.  Isaac would be a good beta for Scott, probably better than for Derek.  Scott had been watching Stiles, but as if sensing Derek’s eyes on him, he looked back.  They regarded each other for a long moment, and then Scott looked away, not in submission, but turning to care for one of his packmates.  Finally, Derek looked over at Jackson, who was clinging to Lydia.  He glanced up enough for Derek to see the flash of blue, but most of his attention was on the girl in his arms.

Derek nodded slightly back before looking at Stiles, who looked like he was about to fall asleep on his feet.

“Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski said carefully.

Stiles shook his head slightly, then carefully pressed his hand to his temple, “Headrush,” he muttered, blinking.  Then he looked up, “Okay, so I am exhausted.  I really should get home, but I can’t drive.  I mean, I could if it were an emergency, but it’s really not, so can I catch a ride with someone?”

“Me,” the Sheriff said, “if Doctor Deaton doesn’t mind your jeep being here overnight.”

“That’s fine,” Deaton said, “but I’d appreciate it if someone moved it further from the door for my patients’ sake.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Stilinski replied.

“Also Doc,” Stiles said, “I need a favor, could you stop by the warehouse and let Peter Hale out of the mountain ash?”

“Stiles,” Derek said.

“I need to talk to Peter,” Stiles said, “it’s like number two on my list of important things right now.  One’s already taken care of, Erica and Boyd are safe from the Alpha Pack, and number three may not be feasible yet, which is to get Cora.  I thought I had enough energy to go see Peter after this meeting, but I am literally falling asleep on my feet, so it’s not happening.  So, I would very much appreciate it if Peter was released.  It would even better if he would agree to a meeting, tomorrow, at the Hale House, 2pm.  Alone.  I won’t taser him, use mountain ash, or have wolfsbane unless or until he proves a threat to my person, or he indicates an intention to harm innocent people.”

“Not alone,” Derek said, amidst a number of other protests.

Stiles stared at them, wide eyed, “Guys, it’s Peter.  He’s not going to hurt me.  Not while I have something he wants, and especially not when it won’t get him anything.”

“Not alone,” the Sheriff said, cutting through the others.

Stiles took a deep breath, and nodded, “Fine, Scott.  Tomorrow, come get me, don’t be late.”

“Me?”  Scott said.

“Trust me,” Stiles said, “you’re exactly the person I want for this.  Derek, later this week I would like to have a sit down with you, Peter, and my dad about something Peter and I will be discussing.”

“But for now, you’re going to bed,” the Sheriff said, wrapping his arm around Stiles’s shoulders and steering him out of the clinic.

Derek glanced at Deaton, “Would you take care of Peter, please?”

“I thought Peter was dead,” Deaton replied.

“So did I,” Melissa said.  Derek tried not to flinch at her tone, it sounded just like his mother for a moment, in that moment when she’d caught you in a lie.

“Peter was brought back from the dead on the full moon,” Derek said, “Lydia forced me into it.”

“Peter forced me,” Lydia replied, “I thought I was losing my mind.”

“You weren’t,” Deaton said, “I have a book on banshees that I’d be happy to loan you.  Come by tomorrow if you want to borrow it.”  He nodded to Derek, “I will handle Peter.”

“Keep him alive, please,” Derek said.

“As best as I am able,” Deaton replied.

/./././.\\.\\.\\.\

Allison had never been afraid of a door before.

To be fair, she wasn’t really afraid of one now, but more of what it represented.  That was the front door to Stiles’s house.  Inside somewhere was a boy she’d thought of as her friend, a boy who had been kidnapped and beaten by her grandfather, a boy who had said exactly the right thing to pull her out of a storm of misery and fear.

Allison reached out, hand shaking, for the doorbell, but just before she could touch it, the door swung open.

“Allison,” Stiles said.

For a moment, all she could see were the bruises on his face.  Somehow, they looked worse than last night.  Then she noticed that his expression was relaxing, as if he’d been expecting someone else to stand on his porch today.  Would it be Scott, coming over to check on his best friend?

“Stiles,” She managed to say, feeling as if she was drowning.

“Come inside,” Stiles said, “my dad’s trying to hide the alternate fries from me.”

Allison blinked, “The what?”

Stiles nodded slightly, “Alternate fries, carrot sticks, bell peppers, celery.  Health food that is good for you,” he called over his shoulder.

“Still older than you,” the Sheriff called back.

“Come on,” Stiles said, “Dad and I are having food wars in the kitchen.  You look like you need a distraction.”

“I can’t stay long,” Allison blurted out.

“That’s okay,” Stiles said, “I’m leaving in about twenty minutes too, provided Scott isn’t late.”

“Right,” Allison said, following Stiles into the kitchen.

The Sheriff was closing the door to the fridge, clearly trying to look innocent.

“Scott’s a werewolf,” Stiles said, “celery smells.  You aren’t going to escape healthy food.”  He headed to the bags of food on one of the counters and began unpacking, “If you keep this up, I won’t make gumbo.”

“Gumbo?”  The Sheriff repeated.

“Gumbo,” Stiles nodded, “Good gumbo, the kind you get second helpings of.”

The Sheriff’s eyes began to narrow, then his phone beeped.  “This isn’t over, young man.”  He said as he turned to his phone.

“Of course not,” Stiles replied, “you are going to retire at sixty-five and live a long life.”

“We’ll talk later,” the Sheriff said, “I have to go to the station.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, “Love you dad.”

“Love you to,” the Sheriff replied and left.

Stiles sighed, then turned to Allison, packages of cheese in hand, “So how can I help you?”

“Your dad knows?”  Allison asked.

“Yup,” Stiles said.  “I told him last night.”

“But why?”  Allison said.

Stiles hesitated, then opened the fridge, “Gerard threatened Scott’s mom to get him to cooperate.  I was afraid he would have orders in place if he died or something.  My dad was the best person I knew to protect Melissa, which meant I had to explain why.  Or rather, Deaton and Melissa explained while I hauled Lydia, Boyd, and Erica to the warehouse.”

“Okay,” Allison said slowly.

“Allison, I don’t blame you for what happened with Gerard,” Stiles said as he shut the fridge again.  He walked over and stood in front of her, reaching to take her hands in his.  “Grief makes us do things we wouldn’t do otherwise, but I know that if you had known about me, you would have stopped him.”

“But Boyd and Erica,” Allison said, “I put them there.”

“I know,” Stiles said, “and one day you’ll have to face them and deal with that, but there is no debt between me and you, not for this.”

He looked older suddenly, his eyes filled with shadow and pain far beyond his years.  Allison frowned, “Stiles?”

Stiles smiled a little, “I’m okay Allie, just tired.  I can’t believe it’s not even May yet, it feels like we’ve been at this for years.”  He released Allison’s hands, “I need to get these groceries put up before Scott gets here.”

“Right,” Allison said, “But Stiles, the Argents owe you a debt.  What Gerard did-“

“All I want is for Gerard to be gone,” Stiles said, “locked up until he dies.  I want you to heal and get better.  A copy of the Argent bestiary would be awesome, but I think your dad will handle that.”

“Okay,” Allison said.  “I think we can do that.  I should go.”

“Take care of yourself Allison,” Stiles replied, giving her a smile, “Enjoy France.”

It wasn’t until Allison was pulling away from the Stilinski house that she realized she’d never told him they were leaving for France.

/./././.\\.\\.\\.\

When Peter entered the Hale House, he was greeted by Scott McCall, gold eyes shining in the gloom as he growled softly and pointed into the former living room.

“Scott,” Peter said with a slight nod before turning into the living room.

Stiles was waiting for him inside a mountain ash circle, seated in a lawn chair.  Outside the circle, angled so that Peter would have a clear shot at the door, was another chair.

“Stiles,” Peter said.

Stiles smiled, “Peter.”  He gestured, “Have a seat.  I apologize for our chaperone, but it was a necessary compromise.”

“I see,” Peter said as he settled into the chair.

“Firstly, I apologize for last night.  I had every intention of making my way back to the warehouse to release you after we could talk.  The after effects of the time travel were stronger than I expected,” Stiles said.

Peter nodded slightly, “Apology accepted.” he liked this older Stiles.  The potential he’d noted in Stiles at fifteen had matured and hardened.  He wondered if Stiles would tell him more about what he’d experienced.

Stiles bit his lip for a moment, “Scott once asked me why I didn’t trust people.  I told him it was because he trusted everyone.  That statement is unique that it is both true and false.  I do not trust unreservedly, I haven’t in years.  I’m also a very good judge of character,” he turned his head to the doorway and raised his voice slightly, “Which is why some people should listen to me more often.”

There was a faint scuff as Scott shifted on the stairs, but otherwise, there was no response.

“I don’t trust you, Peter,” Stiles said.  “As much as you know and as smart as you are, you’re an unreliable narrator.  You hold back to lord your knowledge over the plebs.  You have a very select number of people for whom you would do anything.  I get that, actually, I’m the same way.  One of those things I tend to count on is that nine times out of ten, I don’t make your list any more than you’d make mine.  I suspect it has something to do with a certain self-igniting Molotov cocktail.”

“You don’t say,” Peter murmured.

“The thing is, there are two people that you would risk everything for, from feral alphas to the Wild Hunt,” Stiles continued.  “One of them is Cora.  I’m going to give you and Derek everything I know about Cora’s experience at the hands of the Alpha Pack, and hopefully she’ll be out of there soon.”

“And the other?”  Peter asked.

Stiles smiled a little, “Talia Hale took two memories from you, Peter.  One of them was six, almost seven years ago.  The other was about fifteen years ago.”

Peter straightened up even more, “Fifteen years ago?”  He said, trying to not to look desperate.  Stiles just gave him a knowing look.

“The newer memory was the location of the Nemeton.  It will be important soon, but for now it’s best left where it is.  The older memory, however, is life changing.”

“Try me,” Peter said.

“You have a child,” Stiles said carefully.

Peter blinked.  Sat back.  Stared at Stiles.

“I’m willing to tell you more, but I need something from you,” Stiles said.  “Oaths, bite, blood, pack.  You won’t attack Derek, or Scott, or Satomi Ito for their Alpha Spark.  You can defend from an attack, but you won’t target them.”

Bite, blood, and pack, Peter mused to himself as he steepled his fingers and regarded Stiles for a long moment.  Then he reached down, singular claw extended, and let the blood run.  “My oath,” he said quietly.

Stiles smiled.

“Her name is Malia; she was adopted by a family called the Tates.  Her mother and little sister died in a car crash six years ago, give or take.  Her dad still lives here in Beacon Hills, but Malia’s story is a lot more complicated.”

“Go on,” Peter began.

“Favors,” Stiles said, “twenty-five no questions asked favors, redeemed at my discretion.  Ten years statute of limitations from today.”

“Agreed,” Peter said quickly.

Stiles grinned a little, “Malia’s mother is the Desert Wolf.  She’s a werecoyote.  What do you know about werecoyote pregnancies?”

“Not that much,” Peter said.

Stiles nodded, “Apparently, a pregnant werecoyote passes on part of their power to their child.  Malia’s mother viewed that as theft, not a gift.  Six years ago, she tried to kill Malia to get her power back, and failed, at the cost of the two Tates.  Malia is currently trapped in her coyote form, with some jumbled together and confusing memories of humanity, but she’s been a coyote since the wreck, when she fled to escape the professional assassin seeking her.”

Peter clenched his hands, driven by an urge to shift that was currently beyond his reach.

“I don’t know if you’d be proud or appalled, but about a year after we found Malia and taught her to shift, her mom came back.  Malia, with the help of this mercenary we know, or will know, killed the Desert Wolf.”  Stiles stood for a minute, shifting from foot to foot before beginning to walk the edge of the mountain ash.  “Malia is incredibly intelligent, although her lack of formal, continuous education doesn’t make it apparent.  After she learned to shift, which happened in mid-January of next year, she spent three or four months adjusting to being more human and started catching up her academics.  She started junior year with us, and while her math grade was never spectacular, with summer school to help make up certain classes, she did graduate with us, right when she was supposed to.  She’s also practical, although we spent a lot time working on recognizing when her coyote based instincts and responses would be poorly received, and times when they were not only acceptable, but reasonable.”

“Oh,” Peter said as Stiles smiled and chuckled a little.

“Right before junior year we had a discussion about coyote practicality in terms of injured friends.  Our Kitsune friend did not take the part about ‘I would eat her if the hunting was bad’ very well.”  Stiles replied.  He glanced at Peter, “I wasn’t ever trying to make Malia human, she’s not.  Our discussions tended to center more around pack needs, protecting those who needed it, and _recognizing_ the differences between her thought processes and ours and when to not draw attention to them.”

“Do you know where Malia is?”  Peter said.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, “I mean, I’ll double check the location with Dad, he has a file on her from the crash, but yes, I can find her.  The complication is her adoptive father, Henry Tate.  He does love her, even if he doesn’t understand the supernatural, and he will have legal custody of her.  I mean, unless you want your competence legally recognized and want to fight him over it.”

“That part I can handle,” Peter said firmly, “I want my daughter.”

“Then we’ll need Derek.  Scott Alpha roared her out of her shift last time,” Stiles said.

Derek was meeting a realtor about some property he wanted to buy, Peter knew.  He wouldn’t be free to help for hours.

“Was there anything else we needed to discuss?”  Peter asked.

Stiles tilted his head, considering, “Not at the moment.  Scott and I have a ‘changing the timeline’ action to carry out, and then I’m going to start work on a visual time line of events to see what we can change now or later.”

“Then I will speak to Derek about my daughter,” Peter replied standing up.  He considered the lanky teenager, “Thank you, Stiles.  This means a great deal to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Stiles said.  He paused, “One more thing, just for future reference.”

Peter paused and looked at him.

“Malia’s favorite food is deer.  There’s a roadside shack up north that buys game from hunters when it’s in season.  She loves going there and getting their venison burgers.  It’s cheap, and a lot like fast food, but wild game.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  Peter nodded slightly.  He had a lot to do to bring his daughter home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not abandoned, just delayed.

As the end credits of Star Wars rolled by, Stiles turned to his friend, “What did you think?”

“I liked it,” Scott said, “I mean, I kind of expected to, given how much you like it, but I didn’t think, well, this is the first one?”

Stiles grinned, “This is the first one they released, if you want the chronological order, it’s the fourth one.  We’re doing it in release order, because then I can forget about the sequels.”

“The who?”  Scott said.

Stiles nodded, “They did a sequel trilogy, and some anthologies.  But they won’t start coming out until 2015.”  He got up, “I’m starving, want to order some pizza?”

“Sure,” Scott said.  He hesitated a minute, “Hey Stiles.”

“Yeah?”  Stiles asked as he went looking for the phone book.  Ten years and he couldn’t remember the number to the old pizza place.  After the old man passed, the quality had gone down hill fast and it hadn’t been worth the price of gas before it closed, but this was the height of it’s glory and Stiles was going to enjoy it.

“We stayed friends, right?”  Scott said.

“Hell yeah,” Stiles said.  “I mean, we went through some shit, and you tried to leave me out of it because I was away at college, but we’re pack.  Brothers for life.”  He grinned at his friend, “You and me, Scotty, we’re forever.  I’m not going to drop you and you aren’t going to drop me.”

“Right,” Scott said finally, smiling back.  He held up the DVD case,  “Do you want to put on the next one or wait for the pizza?”

“Let’s wait,” Stiles said, “I should probably start working on the timeline anyways.  Just until the pizza arrives.”

“Oh,” Scott said.

Stiles headed to the back of the room were some poster boards rested, “Don’t worry, other than plotting to save Cora, there’s nothing really big going down.  I mean, Derek’s going to make sure Jackson doesn’t lose control of his wolf, and I’m probably going to get pissed and shoot Peter at some point.”

“But, I thought,” Scott hesitated.

Stiles chuckled, “I’m joking, Scotty.  As long as you know you can’t trust him in terms of actually fighting, he’s fairly tolerable.  If we screw up enough that he dies again, he’ll get even more tolerable after that.

“Because he’d be dead?”  Scott said carefully.

“That too,” Stiles agreed with a slight nod, staring at the poster board.  “So, where to start.”  He glanced at Scott, “What do you think?”

Scott considered it for a moment, “You keep mentioning, or almost mentioning people, who are they?”

Stiles grinned, “The pack, our allies?  Yeah, that’s a good start.”

He turned the poster board on it’s side and uncapped his marker and wrote HALE PACK across the top.  “Got to start at the beginning.”

The lists were slow, Stiles wanted to make sure that the people who would come up in stories, including the deceased, were properly listed with their ties.  Scott was quiet as he watched the list of names grow, something clearly on his mind.

“Stiles,” Scott said, “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

Stiles smiled as he wrote Liam Dunbar on the list of Betas, “You don’t.  Not even to be Alpha.  When the time comes, and you need it, your Alpha spark will be there without needing to hurt anyone.”

“Okay,” Scott said, then he perked up, “pizza’s here.”

Stiles finished the list with Hayden and Mason as Scott went to pay for the pizza.  It wasn’t hard to remember that this wasn’t his Scott, with ten years of fighting for people who didn’t always care or understand where he was coming from.  This was baby Scott, barely a beta, with no notion of how to build a legacy, how to lead, how to fight.  There was so much they’d gone through to get where they’d been, and Stiles, with his knowledge and plans, could get him there without the pain and the losses they’d once suffered.

Of course, the first thing to do was get Scott through the rest of Star Wars in a reasonable time frame.  It was a small change, but if a single butterfly could cause a hurricane, then Stiles would do his best to be a butterfly and not a bull in a china shop.

/././././.\\.\\.\\.\\.\

Derek had a cousin.

As Peter and Stiles explained the situation, Derek had a long moment where all he could see was the possibility of _more family._   It wasn’t enough to know that Cora was alive, on her way to Beacon Hills, if not there already, but another family member, one he’d never even heard of.

“You know where she is?”  Derek made himself ask.

“I got the location for the car wreck from my dad,” Stiles said, “but finding Malia from that will take time.”

Because Malia was currently stuck in the form of a coyote.

“Are you free this weekend?”  Peter asked glancing between them.  Derek wondered at how much more aware Peter seemed in the face of a potential daughter.  Hopefully this was just a sign of Peter beginning to heal from the fire.

“I am,” Derek said.

“Sure,” Stiles said with a shrug.  “I mean, I’m trying to figure out a way to look for Cora, but I think I’ll need Deaton’s help on that one.  And the Darach isn’t here yet, I don’t think she’ll be here until late June.”

“There’s a Darach?”  Derek said.

“There will be,” Stiles replied, “She’s hunting the Alpha Pack, specifically Kali.  She used to be Kali’s Emissary, and I’m pretty sure they were lovers too, but when Kali opted to join the Alpha Pack and killed her pack, she left the Darach alive.  I don’t know why, I mean, she did attack the Darach and the scarring was horrific, but I don’t know how she survived beyond using the dying power of the nemeton to hold onto life.  On the one hand, she’s useful for killing Kali, but on the other hand, she gets the power for it via a three-fold sacrifice on a five-fold knot.”

“And her name?”  Peter asked.

“No,” Stiles said.  “Let’s focus on the now.  On getting Jackson tamed, Malia back, and saving Cora.  The Darach, the Alpha Pack, and the Nemeton can wait.”

Derek glared at Peter for a moment, trying to encourage his uncle to shut up.  Peter was as obviously oblivious as ever.

“So the Nemeton is involved,” Peter said, “that’s very interesting.”

Stiles surged to his feet, face twisting in annoyance, “Do you know how tempting it is to set you up for death again?  Last time around, you became so much more tolerable every time someone killed you.”  He stalked away and then came back, scrubbing his face with his hands before unleashing a groaning sound of frustration.

“What is it?”  Derek asked.

“It’s just, there are things I want to stop, but they won’t be an issue for _years._   If I thought it would help anything, I’d call this mercenary we know, borrow a couple of million from you and send her to handle a couple of people, but I _can’t_ because as much as I’d love to see that one handled, it means losing track of an even greater evil.  It’s just so frustrating.  And then there’s the asshole, he’s like another Peter except he’s our age and I fucking hate his guts, he nearly killed Scott, but he ended up being a huge help before he died.  Like, we fucking owe him for saving the puppies six or seven times over, but I would happily put him on the do-not-save list.”

“Puppies?”  Peter said.

“Scott’s betas,” Stiles said, smiling at the thought of Liam and Hayden, and Cory and Mason.  They’d been great, and he so owed the Calaveras for getting them out of Beacon Hills when things when to pot around Beacon Hills.  “Scott had two betas he bit himself, they’re four years younger than us, and we also had a werechameleon chimera and his boyfriend, their human.  I used to call them the puppies because damn they were young.”

“A werechameleon chimera,” Peter said, “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Werechameleons are almost extinct now, and this one was unique because of his origins,” Stiles replied, “born human, got tangled up with some crazy supernatural scientists.  He’s one of the ones who stabilized and survived that clusterfuck.  One of Scott’s betas was originally another one, a werewolf chimera, but Scott gave her the bite to help her stabilize and so she was Scott’s after that.”

“What kind of scientists would do that?”  Derek asked, almost as if the words were dragged out of him.

“I’m sourcing a copy of a book written about them,” Stiles replied, “in my free time.  When I get it, I’ll throw it at your head first.  You missed out on that fun anyways.”

“And I?”  Peter asked.

“We shoved you in Eichen House after you tried to kill Scott,” Stiles said, “during the whole thing with the scientists, we broke in to Eichen House for reasons and you used us doing that to escape.  Then you died.  So no, I don’t think you got involved with that.  Then I died and figured out a way for you to come back to life because you could survive the veil and I couldn’t, and you gave them just enough to open up the door to get me back.  Then you died again but came back about an hour later because we undid the damage that the undead Nazi werewolf caused and saved the whole town in the process.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, “I agree with you, we’ve got enough to focus on.  Besides, a _Nazi?”_

“Fine,” Stiles said, amused, “I’ll stop trying to freak you out Derek.  Promise.”  He paused, “How did your real estate meeting go, did you buy the warehouse?”

“I made an offer,” Derek replied.

“Cool,” Stiles said, knowing his smile was bittersweet, “that place had a lot of memories.”

“Should I back out?”  Derek asked, “I mean, if you’re wanting to change things.”

“No,” Stiles shook his head, “although I’d appreciate it if we could use part of it for an actual war room with a medical set up.  It’s really inconvenient to have someone get shot and you can’t take them to the clinic because it’s business hours.  Oh, and be warned, Lydia will probably want to have a say in decorating if you let her come around often enough.”  He glanced at his watch, “I need to go, Dad’s going to be on lunch soon and we’re going to grab a bite together.  I’ll call you later to set a time for Malia.”

/./././.\\.\\.\\.\

Stiles had asked Isaac to come by his house for ‘dinner and a discussion’, and Isaac, with Derek’s encouragement, had come.  He’d been leery mostly because he was technically still wanted by the police after the whole ‘breaking out of jail’ incident on the full moon.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said when he opened the door to his house, “Dad’s on swing shift and has promised not to come home without warning.”

“All right,” Isaac said, “hi by the way.”

“Yeah hi, come in, we need to talk.”  Stiles gestured inside.

“What about?”  Isaac asked, “you were kind of vague.”

“I know, but there are some things that sound better in person, with lots of questions, and visual aids,” Stiles replied.  “Now, I picked up cheeseburgers and if I remember it right, yours is pickles, tomatoes, and mustard, which _why?”_   He waved his hand, “Never mind, don’t care.  They didn’t have avocados, which is a crime against man.  So, eat your burger, don’t eat your burger, free country.”

He led Isaac into the dining room where two burgers, fries, and water were waiting.

“That’s the way I like it,” Isaac agreed.

Stiles settled down and gestured, “Enjoy.”

“So what did we need to discuss?”  Isaac asked as he settled down.

“Next week, Derek’s lawyer is going to go with you down to the Sheriff’s station to deal with your escape from custody charge.  Since Matt confessed to the murder, that’s been cleared up, but you do have to handle the other half.”  Stiles replied.  “You’ll do community service for most of the summer.  When the lawyer comes this time, however, you should file for emancipation on the grounds that you stand to inherit your dad’s business and want to retain it.”

“Why would I do that?”  Isaac asked.

“Mostly as a favor to me,” Stiles admitted, “there’s someone I want to get to Beacon Hills sooner rather than later, an ally, and she’s just gotten stiffed out of her dad’s cemetery and funeral home.  She’s got her licenses and has experience and she’s a seer.  Becca saved some of our allies when the war started, and I’d like to have her here when things start really changing so that we have some warning when my knowledge isn’t any good anymore.”

“And what do I get out of it?”  Isaac asked after a long moment.

“Steady income, a business for after high school, no more talks about foster care.  You could rent a place in Derek’s new warehouse that would be yours after you sell the house.”  Stiles paused, “If you sell the house this time.  You did before.”

“Not the business?”  Isaac said.

“Not until you went to France with Mister Argent after Allison died,” Stiles said.  “After she and Scott broke up for good, you dated.  I’m still not sure if that was a precursor to some poly thing with Scott or not but given that Mister Argent not only didn’t shoot you but took guardianship of you in the aftermath of that clusterfuck, well, it was good for you.”

Isaac considered Stiles’s words for a moment as he ate his burger.  “I’ll see about the business, but the emancipation is a good call.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Stiles said.  “Allison won’t die the same way, not this time.”

“How did it happen?”  Isaac asked, knowing the answer would cause regret, but still wanting to know.

“She was stabbed with a sword by a Japanese demon for figuring out that a silver arrow would kill them,” Stiles said bluntly.  “She was helping us rescue Lydia even though Lydia tried to warn her not to go.”

Isaac nodded, then asked the tougher question, “How did I die?”

Stiles sighed, “You sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” Isaac said, “I’m sure.”

“Scott had two betas that he’d bitten.  When we lost Scott, you took the puppies and their allies down to the Calaveras.  On the way, you were ambushed by Monroe’s merry band of idiots.  You played distraction for the puppies.”  Stiles smiled a little, “Mrs. Araya, the Calaveras’s leader, was very impressed by your battle.  It’s very hard to impress her too.”

“You’ve tried?”  Isaac asked.

“Scott did,” Stiles replied, “I think I just amused her.  I’m not very intimidating.”

“You can be,” Isaac pointed out.

“Not at sixteen,” Stiles said dryly, “I learned how to do it the hard way.”

Isaac couldn’t really say anything about that, so instead he finished his burger and considered Stiles’s request.  He could admit to the merit of hiring a manager for the business, as well as respect why Stiles wanted him to, but there was also the question of whether he could manage the place properly.  He’d dug graves, but his dad had never let him near the books, citing his bad math grades.

“You should ask Lydia for help,” Stiles said suddenly, “with the business.  She’s got a head for math and if you ask right, she might do it.”

“Okay,” Isaac replied.

“This time, she’s going to get her Fields Medal,” Stiles muttered, an oddly distant look on his face as he sipped some water.

Isaac judged it better not to ask.


End file.
